“You want to tell me? Then tell me.” He looked at his nails.
She swallowed. “I want you to know that although a lot has changed, my feelings towards you haven’t.”
His jaw clenched, making his words tight and controlled. “Well, isn’t that nice. But I’m not in the mood for a roll in the cage right now.”
She stood there, wondering what she could tell him, what to say, so that he would give her the respect of looking at her. “This isn’t about sex. This is about us. The two of us. At least being able to get along well enough to be in the same room at the same time. Not a cage, not a bed. I want you to treat me like a person.”
“You sure?” he asked, running his hands through his hair. “You know how I treat people. Seems a strange thing to ask for.”
“If you treated me like shit, at least you’d have to acknowledge that I was alive. That I’m a person.”
“Are you? Are you a person?” His accusation hurt, almost as much as the look on his face as he lifted his head and glared at her.
“So…if you don’t think of me as human, then you won’t have to think about who you want me to be. Is that it? The sweet, little girl who needed you to save her from herself?” As she spoke, she paced, besting the speed and frustration of his. “Well, guess what? She was never real to begin with. You cared about a girl who wasn’t a complete person. I’m still the one you took to bed, the one you let your guard down with. But now I’m better, stronger. I feel like I finally know myself. And I like who I am. What—”
“Stop,” he said, his voice stern. Close.
They’d been slowly approaching each other until they were within touching distance. Their subconscious minds drawing them together in a way their stubbornness wouldn’t allow.
He fidgeted uncomfortably, but didn’t move away. “How…” Staring at her mouth, he dragged his teeth across his lip distractedly, as if their simple proximity made it hard to focus. Like two magnets—the closer together, the stronger the force.
“How what?” she asked.
“How did you do it? Break the wall? Did they do it or did you?”
“The wall between me and Chastity?”
He nodded.
“I think I did…by myself. Because they seemed as shocked as I was.” But she didn’t think of it as a wall. She felt combined—strengths from both sides melding together, bring some of their flaws as well. She was whole now—a whole person with good and bad. But now she had a choice. If she did something wrong, she’d made the choice to do wrong. And just that knowledge was freeing. “I don’t know how it happened or even what exactly happened. If I did”—she shook her head—“I’d tell you. So you could do the same with Hyde.”
“No. I could never do that with Hyde. He’s…” His lips tightened. “No.”
“Shutting the idea down before you’ve even considered it doesn’t get us anywhere.”
“And pipe dreams don’t get us anywhere either.”
“We don’t know it’s a pipe dream. If it worked for me…”
“I don’t want it to work for me. Hyde will never be a part of me. Never. Sure, he’s there. Always. And the bastard may be useful at some point. But he’s not me. If he was, I’d…hurt you. And I don’t ever want to hurt you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Not again.”
“Do you believe me?” she asked.
“That you’ve combined both sides of you? Yeah…I guess I do.” His nod was jerky, as if his neck muscles weren’t quite as sure. “Impressive, isn’t it? How long I can delude to myself? How you know when I’m lying to you, but I don’t realize it when I’m lying to myself. Now that’s truly fucked up.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s human.” Then the question that she’d wanted to ask, been dying to ask but fearing the answer, came out of her mouth in a rush. “I know I’m not the Eden you remember, the Eden you loved, but is it…possible?”
He didn’t, or couldn’t, answer. Instead, he stepped back, leaving her empty. Not confused, just empty. She understood. Still hating it, she understood. He needed time.
Her gaze fell, eyes clouding. “It took some getting used to for me too, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” She swallowed and took a deep breath, smoothing down her dress. “It’s okay. Everything’s happening really fast.”
“I’m sorry, Eden.”
She whipped her head up and looked at him. “You called me ‘Eden’.”
He paused, then shook his head dismissively. “A slip of the tongue. It’s not what you think it means.”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s okay if you’re not ready. Once we get this thing straightened out and get you the help you need—”
His brow furrowed again. “They break into my house, shoot a jumper cable into my back, and you still think they’re trying to help us?”
“Not help for the sake of being kind. But ultimately, once they realize they don’t set the terms, they’ll give in and give us what you need.” She was their miracle cure, after all. And there had to be a perk to that, right? Either they helped him or she walked. Permanently. It was as simple as that. No negotiation necessary.
“No. They won’t,” he said slowly, as if the slower he spoke, the more readily she’d come around to his opinion. “For some reason you still think this is about us. They don’t give a shit about us. Why would they? It’s about control, Eden.”
Hearing him call her Eden sent a warmth through her, whether he realized he was doing it or not. It was probably better that it was ‘a slip of his tongue’ because the more it happened, the more it proved that the idea was sinking into his brain. He’d have to accept it eventually. And hopefully, she’d be there when he did. She hid her smile because, truly, her name was only one word, stuck in the middle of a bunch of others that were dangerous.
“I thought you would have figured that out by now,” he said. “Everything is about control. Controlling yourself, controlling other people.” His eyes were on her lips, drawn to them. The gruffness of his voice soothing her, despite the topic. “Fucking up what you don’t like so that what you want comes to be. So I don’t, for one minute, believe they ‘just want to help’.”
His every movement, the sound of his voice, even when they disagreed, did something to her. He was right—it was about control. And the first step was to control themselves. So she walked over to the other side of the room. “I’m not stupid. I know they want something. But if it gets us something in return, then what’s the problem? It isn’t a contest. I’m not looking for a gold star or a blue ribbon. I’m looking to keep us safe and alive. So who cares if they think they’ve won something, as long as we get what we need?”
“We know they need something from you, maybe from me, but only they know what.”
“They want blo—”
“Right, DNA, bodily fluids. Fine. But all they have to do to get that is ask.” He shrugged. “Well, not me ‘cause I’d definitely say no, but they could ask you. And you’d probably say yes, right?”
She nodded. “I already gave them some.”
He grimaced, perhaps at the thought of what they’d taken from her. “Then there’s your proof. If you already gave them that stuff, then why’d they come after us? Why’d they bother to send those jackasses to bring me in too?”
She didn’t answer because she didn’t know.
“This isn’t about us. That’s the problem—we don’t know why. Well, the most obvious answer is power.” He cocked his head. “Okay, so I take it back. It’s not all about control. It’s all about control and power.”
She smiled and turned towards him. “Control and power? Is that it?” She took a step forward, and he matched it with one of his own, his eyes running down the length of her body.
“Maybe money too.” Another step forward.
“Money.” Another step. “What about sex?”
He inhaled, taking another step. “What about sex?”
“Is it all about sex too?” Another.
&nbs
p; “Right now it’s about the only thing I can think of.”
She licked her lips, her gaze never leaving his face, but bouncing around it—mouth to eyes and back again. “Control, power, money and sex. Is that it?” Her next step left about six inches of air between them. It might have been a problem if she didn’t want to be there so badly.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
She stopped. “Even with my eyes this color?”
“It’s not—” His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
She let him off the hook by ducking her head. Unfortunately, he’d either accept who she was or he wouldn’t, and she had no choice in it at all. She’d been someone else, someone not quite real, for her entire life. Now that she was finally free, she wouldn’t hide again. And if it meant that Mitch didn’t want her, well… She’d chosen him. With all her heart and soul, she’d already chosen him. And now he had to choose.
His silence told her he still wasn’t ready. She wanted to make a joke, lighten up a conversation that hurt more and more the longer it went on. But she wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
“It’ll take whatever time it does,” she said, backing away, giving him more room. “There’s no rush.” Was that true? How much time did they really have? Before Hyde took their time away from them.
§ § §
Someone pounded on the door downstairs. Both of them turned, bodies rigid and ready to fight. When the knock became a rhythm, Eden moved first.
“It’s probably just Landon. I locked up after he left.”
“Are we absolutely sure we want to let him in?” Mitch stretched and followed her downstairs. Letting her out of his sight once had led to a tragic end. One he wouldn’t repeat. Doubt was constantly nagging at him, whispering in his ear, ‘You’re an idiot.’ Until he could knock the feeling out of his head, he wasn’t about to let his guard down. He’d do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.
He knew Eden felt guilt, shame, remorse, and empathy—all of those stupid human emotions that did nothing but get people in trouble. None of those were in Chastity’s vocabulary. Chastity wouldn’t give up, she wouldn’t take his ‘no’ for an answer. She’d keep pushing, manipulating, adjusting her plan of attack until she got her way. It wasn’t that Eden would give up—because she wouldn’t. But what Eden would give was time. ‘It’ll take whatever time it does.’ Her words bounced around his head, replaying themselves like a forced mantra.
The entire thing, the hold that she seemed to have over him, had always had over him, left him feeling weak. And Mitch didn’t do well with weak. Maybe it would be better to hand himself over to her, take everything she said as gospel, flop onto his back like a dog who needed a belly-rub. Just so he could stop being so confused about the whole-motherfucking-world and everything and everyone in it.
He pushed in front of her—very ungentlemanly-like. But it was better than letting something happen to her. If there was going to be a fight, the first shift was his. War was easy compared to this shit. Unless the other side had another Taser. In which case, he would be twitching and hurting the entire time he killed the bastard who zapped him.
Sadly, it was just Landon. “It’s me. Let me in, goddamn it!” he bitched as Mitch undid the locks. He stalked inside, slamming the door behind him. “You have no idea the shit I just saw. Without a frigging cop in sight. Not even a security guard.”
“They were probably off somewhere shooting up.” He shrugged at Landon’s glare. “Not helpful?”
“If the drug squad knew about all the smack in this neighborhood…” His words trailed off, leaving a sadness on his face. Perhaps remembering that part of his life was over. Maybe for a little longer. Maybe forever.
Mitch slapped him on the shoulder, rebooting his thoughts, knocking the memories out. “So’d you get it or not?”
Landon exhaled loudly, blinking. Then he held up a vial proudly.
“Lookie, lookie, who’s got the juicie!” He swiped it out of Landon’s hand, turning it to look for cloudiness, knowing that purity wasn’t the biggest issue. “Great. The kind of present everyone wants to have under the tree.” Mitch chuckled bitterly. It did kind of remind him of Christmas back at the hovel he grew up in. Good times with the whole family. His mom holding Shelly and him tightly under a blanket, cowering while his father terrorized them. Ah, what he would’ve given to find a prettily-wrapped box of narcotic that would’ve shut the bastard up. But Santa doesn’t always give you what you put on your list. Or maybe Mitch had already been part of the naughty line-up.
Landon rolled his eyes, smiling. “You’re such an idiot. And you have no idea how long it took me to stop the endless conveyer belt of E and coke until I finally found someone who had some morphine.”
“Why didn’t you bring some E back too?” Mitch joked until his eyes hit her. He saw the look of pain on her face. “It’s morphine, not heroin, Eden.”
§ § §
She nodded but her nausea didn’t go away. Remembering what had taken away her mother and her childhood wasn’t easy. And even though the drug in his hand had a different chemical make-up and name, it was too small a consolation. But she understood its necessity.
Mitch lowered his gaze to the black plastic bag Landon held in his other hand. “What’s that?”
Landon shrugged. “Snacks and drinks.”
“What kind of drinks?” Suspicion laced every syllable.
Eden watched the men glare at each other. Though she didn’t understand what was going on, she stepped forward, hoping her mere presence would break them out of it.
“What kind of drinks, cop?” Mitch asked again.
With a raised eyebrow, Landon slowly reached into the bag and pulled out a water bottle, tossing it to Mitch. Mitch caught it without looking, his stare resting solely on Landon’s face.
“Wasn’t sure what flavor you liked, so I got a few.” The cop smiled nervously as he handed her two bottles of Gatorade and a couple sandwiches wrapped in plastic.
“Thanks.”
“What else is in the bag, Landon?” Mitch asked.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
The silence hung there, stagnating the already-stagnant air.
“There’s no way I can sleep now,” Landon said loudly, filling up the space with inconsequential noise. “Anyone else?”
Mitch snagged the bag out of his hand, the plastic stretching between the men. “Give it to me.”
“It’s just a little bottle.” Landon’s eyes darted from Mitch to Eden and back again.
Oh no. Another issue to stack on the pile.
“Yeah. Well, we’re about to have a motherfucking intervention.”
Landon finally threw up his hands, releasing the bag. “I just got you narcotics so you wouldn’t get all beastly, and I’m the one with the problem?”
“No. I got a far bigger and badder problem.” He took a step closer and kept his voice low. “But you deserve better. And I need one of us to be sober until this shit is over. Please.” It wasn’t a word he used often, so it held more meaning, more power.
Landon nodded.
Eden wanted to look away, ignore the addiction that had ruined her youth and was now screwing up her chance at a future. All of their futures. Each man was struggling with his own personal issues, but they couldn’t pretend they were alone. Everything involved all three of them. And until everyone was safe enough to walk away, their problems were hers. They could stay at the brothel until she figured out a way to convince Mitch that he needed The Clinic, just like they needed him. A business arrangement, negotiated by her. But before that, she had to think.
“Listen, I need some sleep,” she said. “Last night I barely got an hour. So I say we take a nap before we discuss what happens next. Then you guys can fight or hug or do whatever it is you want to do. But I really don’t want to stay in this shithole for any longer than necessary.”
The two men backed off, Mitch turning to head upstairs. Landon sighed and went to sit down in one of the
god-awful chairs in the waiting room, where many-a-man had waited.
“Just in case you change your mind, this,” Mitch said to Landon, holding up the bag he’d just confiscated, “is going in the cage. If you can get past Hyde, it’s yours.” Then he took the stairs two at a time.
“Night, Landon,” she said.
“It’s almost morning.”
“Okay, well then…morning.” She paused on the stairs. “You going to try to sleep a bit?”
“In a little while,” he said without looking up.
“What the fuck, Landon?” came barreling down the stairs.
Landon’s head whipped up, a big smile on his face.
“What was that about?” Eden asked him.
“He just found out what else was in the bag.”
Eden waited for an explanation.
“I got some condoms.” His smile faltered, probably a reaction to the grimace on her face. “Not for me! For you two.”
“We’re not—”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, disbelief arching his brows and curling his lips. “Well, use them or don’t use them.”
“We’re a long way from that happening.” Unless it was angry sex. Or…God, I’d really love some great make-up sex right about now. And the best part wouldn’t even be feeling him inside of her—it would be knowing he’d accepted who she was. Unless he didn’t care who he was screwing.
“Whatever you say,” Landon mumbled.
She found the box of condoms in the hallway where Mitch had probably hurled them. With only an ounce of hope left in her heart, she picked it up and brought it to her room. She hoped to God the king-sized futon wasn’t sticky. Because that would bust the damn open. Everything that had happened since she woke up—not understanding who she’d become, not knowing who to trust, not being recognizable to the one person she wanted to lean on—would breech her walls and come flooding out. And she’d never be able to sleep if she was sobbing.
Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy Page 19